


Afternoon Respite

by jessebee



Series: Morpheus [2]
Category: Points - Melissa Scott & Lisa A. Barnett
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Declarations Of Love, M/M, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessebee/pseuds/jessebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saying things with furniture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afternoon Respite

 

 

 

 

 

Philip doesn't often catch Nico asleep, even now. Lemen they've been for a little while – and it still makes Philip grin to remember how Nico had just blurted it out, startling both of them – but working in Point of Dreams with its late-rising populace hasn't much changed Nico's own habit of rising before the gargoyles.

 

Not that Philip's complaining about the early morning attentions that sometimes brings him, oh no.

 

Nico isn't one for naps, either. “I'm not getting into bed in the middle of the day,” he'd said, after Forveijl's near-deadly attempt at seduction.

 

A bed, perhaps not. But a _couche_....

 

They have such a item now, an old but well-made piece that might easily double as a narrow bed. It takes up much of one of the two small rooms that Philip's rented next door to Nico's single larger one, but as they never bother to close the connecting door, it feels cozy rather than cramped. They'd spotted it on a rare off-day ramble, in a second-hand shop in a down-at-the-heels back street in Manufactory Point....

 

#

 

“A good piece, this,” the shopkeeper said. “You see the depth of the finish, the strength of the joins.”

 

“I see the wear and the hard life it's had, certainly,” Nico said, and Philip ducked his head to hide a smile as the contest was joined. Merchanting was Astreiant's lifeblood and bargaining was a skill and purpose apparently imbibed with mother's milk, even by leveller-inclined pointsmen.

 

“Hmm.” Nico crouched to run his hand over a solid-looking leg. “Out of proportion, though. Too wide here to be a good seat, too narrow to – ”

 

“Be a decent bed, I've been told,” the shopkeeper finished, shaking her head. “Which is foolish, as with a few pillows it makes a fine seat indeed! And the carving!”

 

“Which isn't even finished, dame,” Nico countered, “that's not a - ”

 

But that was, truthfully, what had caught Philip's eye in the first place. A frieze of horses ran across the back but not all the way, vanishing into only the intent of their shapes, as though the carver had been called away and never returned to finish. The very vaugity of it was beautiful, as if the herd were melting into the mist. He touched the corner horse again, its neck and head and the color of the wood reminding him hard of the chestnut he'd sold before coming to Astreiant. He shifted abruptly, and the other two paused. “How much?”

 

She named a figure, and Philip bit back the sigh. Even with haggling, that would never come down to something he'd pay, even with the increase in his funds from his portion of _The Alphabet of Desire_.

 

Nico made the expected noises of outrage and they took their leave, stepping out onto the street. But when Philip kept walking, Nico touched his arm. “What?”

 

“You should bargain, Philip. It's a good piece.”

 

Philip snorted. “For about half what she named, maybe.”

 

“She'll come down that far,” Nico said, and Philip stopped and stared at him.

 

“You're serious.”

 

Nico shrugged. “You like it, and Astree knows we could use it, your rooms are bare.”

 

 _We?_ “Nico - ”

 

“Look, how much would you pay?”

 

Philip narrowed his eyes. “Half that again. Maybe.”

 

But Nico just nodded, not quite looking at him. “That's fair. I'll put down the rest - ”

 

 _What?_ Philip blinked. “Nico.”

 

“ - and see if we can get a cart to move it thrown into the deal - ”

 

“ _Nico._ ” His pointsman fell silent. “What is this?”

 

A soft huff of air. “You like it,” Nico repeated, and the mulish cast of his face was accented by a faint flush, rising across his cheekbones. “It's a solid piece that we, you can well use, and I – hells, I certainly can't spend that _compensation_ \- ” said with disdain, about the coin of Astrieant's he'd had to accept “ - on myself.”

 

Nico met his eyes then, finally, stubborn and embarrassed, and Philip felt something in his chest melt. It was declaring lemanry, all over again. “I should kiss you, hard, right here,” he said softly, and Nico grimaced at him.

 

“Save it until we get that thing home.”

#

 

 

 

 

Nico is sprawled out on that thing now, drowsing, his head pillowed on Philip's leg.

 

The day-sunlight is warm, tempting with hints of spring. It touches Nico's hair with red and a dusting of gold. Philip touches too, but lightly, close-cut curls catching at his fingers. More than that might wake the sleeper and Nico needs the rest. His last case had taken a toll, emotional as much as physical, and Chief Point Trijn had all but ordered him to take some time. She had enlisted Philip, fortuitously between plays, to back it up.

 

Nico had protested, of course, but once out of the points station he'd gone down almost without a fight, his argument token at best. Now the same sunlight picks out shadows beneath his closed eyes, but those are fading with food and rest, and Philip feels he can congratulate himself on that.

 

High-arched ribs rise and fall beneath Nico's soft, worn-fine shirt, an old one that is Seidos only knows how far out of date. The age of the hose encasing those long legs doesn't even bear thinking about. Not a fashionable man, his leman, but then perhaps one couldn't be accused of being out of fashion if one had never been in to begin with. A tough, wiry man, though; his body well suited to the pointsmans' profession. Suited to other pursuits as well....

 

 _Down, boy,_ Philip tells himself, wryly, still a bit bemused at how Nico can stir his blood by doing nothing much more than breathing. But now's not the time for that, not with the weight of Nico's head settled, in rare abandon, against Philip's thigh.

 

A soldier's life had taught Philip early on to grab sleep with both hands, whenever possible. He's made peace, for the most part, with the things he's done, and he's not much bothered by his dreams. Nico, on the other hand, would have one believe that sleep doesn't much matter to him one way or another, as though it's just something that takes him away from his work. But he's ambushed, sometimes, in the night, by things he won't quite talk about, although he'll let Philip hold him, now, in the aftermath.

 

It's no bad dream that stirs Nico this time, though, shifting his hips and other things, turning his head so that his breath is warming the cloth of Philip's breeches. And the skin beneath. Philip's own breath draws in a little harder despite himself and that's enough, it seems. Another shift and Nico's eyes open, his gray-green gaze soft, its usual caution gone. Still half-asleep, he smiles and reaches up, curves fingers around Philip's nape and pulls, his lips parting.

 

There's no part of Philip that considers refusing, and the couche once again proves its worth.

 

 

end

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Afternoon Respite  
> Author: jesse  
> Pairing or character(s): Nicolas Rathe/Philip Eslingen  
> Rating: Mature  
> Wordcount: ~1200  
> Summary: Saying things with furniture  
> Warnings: Possible schmoop alert  
> Notes: Placed somewhen after "Point of Dreams." Enormous thanks to byslantedlight for the much-needed application of “thoughtful” and “insightful.”


End file.
